


Babies, Tigers, Bears, Oh My!

by chromyrose



Series: SASO 2017 [36]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adoption, Babies, Babysitting, Bodily Fluids, Bodily Functions, Cute, Family Fluff, Gay Parents, Godfather Yuri Plisetsky, Kidfic, M/M, Self-Indulgent, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 19:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11927892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromyrose/pseuds/chromyrose
Summary: Otabek and Yuri end up babysitting Misha Katsuki-Nikiforov while his dads are at a charity function, and they all grow a little closer in the process.





	Babies, Tigers, Bears, Oh My!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/gifts), [prillalar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prillalar/gifts).



> Prompt was _The Onion_ headline "Study Reveals: Babies Are Stupid."
> 
> Misha is in fact quite smart, though he loves giving Yuri a hard time. The name "Misha" was chosen because it's a Russian name that fits neatly into the structure of the Japanese writing system. I had the sense that there was a bear character with this name, and lo and behold, he was a Russian Olympic mascot who also starred in a Japanese anime. After learning that, I couldn't not use the name or the little references to bears that make it into the fic. Especially given how much Otabek loves bears :D I tried to keep Misha's development consistent with a 7-month-old baby, so he can't walk or talk yet, but he can still do adorable and hilarious things. 
> 
> This entire fic is totally self-indulgent fluff and baby shenanigans; consider yourself warned. Many kudos to ao3 user prillalar for their support and encouragement, and for helping me figure out the ending!

When the doorbell rings to herald the arrival of Misha Katsuki-Nikiforov and his fathers, Otabek looks over to the couch where Yuri has parked himself and is pouting around a mouthful of pretzels. 

“Aren’t you going to come say ‘hi’?” 

“No.” Yuri huffs, causing crumbs to fall from his full bottom lip. He shoves another handful of snacks into his mouth petulantly, and Otabek sighs and goes to the door. 

Yuuri Katsuki is there, with a sleeping Misha balanced in one arm and an overflowing baby bag thrown over the opposite shoulder. It’s a bit of a jarring look given the expensive suit he’s wearing and the too-bright concealer under his eyes, but Otabek’s gotten used to seeing Yuuri in father mode over the past few months. Yuuri smiles when he sees Otabek, and is quick to express his gratitude.

“Thank you both so much for agreeing to take him tonight,” he sighs, gently unlatching Misha’s fingers from his blazer and passing him to Otabek. Otabek takes the bundled up baby very delicately, and rests his heavy head on his shoulder. “I really hate inconveniencing you, but this fundraiser is important to Viktor. And Yurio is Misha’s favorite babysitter… hey, where is Yurio?”

Otabek gestures to the couch with his head, hands securely holding onto Misha, and Yuri greets Yuuri by holding his arm up and giving him the finger. Yuuri chuckles. 

“I’m glad to see he’s in a good mood tonight.” 

“I think he’s upset that you called me instead of him, Katsuki-san,” Otabek offers diplomatically, and Yuuri runs a hand through his slicked back hair. 

“I appreciate that you care so much about my culture, Otabek, but you can just call me Yuuri—“ 

Yuri makes a loud, ‘wrong answer’ buzzer noise, and when Otabek turns around he can see that Yuri’s moved to drape himself over the closer couch; he smiles to himself and hides it against the baby’s hair. 

“He can’t call _you_ that, Katsudon,” Yuri snaps. “I’m the only Yuri in his life.” 

Otabek is grateful for Misha’s head hiding his face when he feels heat rise in his cheeks. Yuuri must notice him blushing anyways, because he chuckles fondly. 

“Sorry if we upset you, Yurio,” he calls into the room. “But you’ve been screening Viktor’s calls for the past week.” 

“He gave a shitty interview,” Yuri responds tersely, and then he disappears from sight, rolling back down onto the couch. Otabek shrugs sheepishly at Yuuri, but Yuuri’s smile is all fondness.

“It’s nice to hear that you woke up early to watch it,” he says, just loud enough that Yuri certainly hears. “I’d love to stay, but Viktor’s waiting in the car downstairs. Misha should be fine on food for a few hours, since he ate before his nap, but I packed extra food just in case. And he takes a bottle before bedtime, at around—“

“Nine pm,” Otabek supplies patiently, reaching for the bag as Yuuri slides it off his shoulder. “We’ll call if we need anything, Katsuki-san.” He adds, and Yuuri slumps with relief. 

“I’m sorry, Otabek, I know you both know what you’re doing. Just, yeah, call. I’ll have my phone on me all night.” 

“Enjoy the party,” Otabek insists in his gentlest tone, and Yuuri nods. He gives his son’s chestnut hair a final kiss before he leaves, and Otabek locks the door behind him before he heads for the bedroom. 

“Where are you going?” Yuri demands, sitting up properly now and holding his arms out. “Give me my godson.” 

“I was going to tuck him in bed.”

“No, he’ll freak out if he wakes up alone in an unfamiliar place.” Yuri’s grabby hands become more urgent. “Give him here, I’ll hold him. You make yourself useful and unpack the bag so we can see how carried away the Wonder Dads got.” 

Otabek knows better than to cross Yuri when it comes to Misha, or to let Yuri catch him laughing, so he stifles his chuckle as he gently passes the baby into Yuri’s waiting arms. Yuri immediately cradles him, his expression already exponentially softer. 

“You’ve gotten bigger, Misha,” he whisper-coos, tucking in the edge of his blanket. “Taking after your piggy daddy, aren’t you? How are you ever gonna walk on such chubby little legs?” 

“You’ll hurt his self-esteem, Yuri,” Otabek comments, looking up from the baby bag he’s taking stock of. He watches Yuri stroke Misha’s red cheek with the back of his finger and can’t help but smile. 

Yuri scoffs without looking up. “He’s too smart to let trash talk get to him. This is a future Olympian, no shitty mind games are gonna get him down.” 

“Language,” Otabek admonishes playfully. “I’m pretty sure I was just as fat as an infant. You could probably convince my mother to send you pictures.” 

Finally looking away from the bundle of sleeping baby, Yuri gives Otabek a hard look, eyes skimming over his features. “Don’t think I won’t, now that you mentioned it. I bet you were the kind of baby who never smiled. Like, you probably just had a bored, gassy look on your face all the time.” 

Otabek raises both his eyebrows. “Are we making assumptions? Because in that case, I bet you were a crier. Very loud.” 

“Shut up,” Yuri splutters, jerking his leg out to kick Otabek’s shin. He seems to remember that he’s holding onto a baby only after he does it, and with some shame he gently lays Misha down on the couch beside him instead. 

“He’s not very fun when he’s asleep,” he complains. “Shouldn’t we wake him up soon, so he doesn’t keep us up all night?” 

“We don’t know when he fell asleep,” Otabek counters, setting six ( _six_ ) extra white bodysuits down on the sofa. “If we wake him up too soon, he’ll be irritable.” 

“Kind of like you when it’s time for our morning run,” Yuri teases, sliding down onto the seat beside his and throwing his arm around Otabek’s shoulder. “It’s no wonder you like bears so much, you hibernate like one every night when it’s cold.” 

“The blankets are warm,” he insists. Then, with a tiny quirk of his lip, he adds, “and they smell like you.” 

Yuri blushes, just as expected, and punches Otabek’s bicep. “Shut up. I thought I was dating someone tough and cool but you’re just a soft-hearted old man. Gross. Hand in your bike license and give up the leathers, you’re giving people the wrong impression.”

“Are you saying I was poorly advertised?” Otabek asks, shifting the bag off his lap and throwing a leg over Yuri’s. His voice drops lower, “Are you unsatisfied with the goods?” 

He and Yuri are on the same wavelength. Their faces move closer as Yuri’s grip tightens around Otabek’s neck, and Otabek settles his hand on Yuri’s waist. 

At the first scrape of their lips, they’re interrupted by crying. Otabek leans back just in time to avoid being whipped by Yuri’s hair, as Yuri turns his head immediately to the source of the noise. On the other couch, Misha has loosened himself from his blanket and is sitting up, gaze fixed on them as he reaches forward and sniffles. 

“Oh, Misha,” Yuri sighs sweetly, using a tone Otabek only ever hears around the baby; the first time he heard it, another one of Cupid’s arrows sank into his heart. Yuri gets up and takes two steps forward, with Misha’s head and body following his movements, the crying mostly ceased except for a few whimpers. When he’s picked up, Misha latches onto Yuri’s shirt, and wipes his nose in it for good measure. 

“Gross,” Yuri huffs, bouncing the baby slightly to get a better hold of him. “So, so gross.” 

Misha laughs, showing off the little nubs of his first tooth. Yuri grabs the blanket to throw around his body, and comes back to Otabek’s side, balancing Misha in his lap. Otabek passes him a baby wipe and Yuri cleans the crusted drool and tear tracks off Misha’s face. 

“Good morning, sleepy bear,” Otabek says in his own baby-voice, which registers lower than Yuri’s but is still pleasant enough that Misha directs his attention over and giggles. He drools a little more when he laughs, and Yuri sucks his teeth and cleans that away, too. 

“Is this your new party trick?” He asks, bouncing his legs a little to keep the baby amused. “Last time you were here, you sneezed in my eyeball. Don’t think I forgot, you nasty little booger.” 

Misha responds by shifting forward on Yuri’s lap and grasping at his shirt again, babbling away nonsensically. 

“Yeah, that’s right, this shirt has a tiger on it. And tigers are the coolest animal, even cooler than bears. Right, Misha?”

Yuri punctuates his question by tracing his finger up Misha’s torso, which makes him shriek with delight and grasp the digit with his whole hand. Yuri laughs. 

“See, Beka, even Misha agrees.” 

“You’re making him belie his nature,” Otabek sighs, digging into the baby bag for some of the toys Yuuri threw in. “His dads call him their teddy bear.” 

“We already know they’ve got shi— really bad taste. Isn’t that right, Mishenka?” He turns his attention back to the baby and sings, “Who’s got the worst dads? It’s you, it’s you!” 

“Yuri!” Otabek chides, even as he’s failing to hide his laughter. For his part, Misha seems to think it’s the best song in the world. He shrieks once more and pulls on Yuri’s finger, demanding an encore. Yuri laughs, then suddenly gags. 

“Oh God,” he swears. “Who’s got the smelliest diaper? It’s you, it’s you! And who’s gotta deal with it? Uncle Otabek!” 

“Yuri—“ Otabek protests, but he really can’t not take hold of Misha when Yuri balances him perilously on his knees in Otabek’s lap. He lifts him up in the air by his armpits. “I’m not even his family.”

“Sure you are,” Yuri insists brightly. “I’m his godfather and you’re my boyfriend, so that makes you his uncle. Ish.”

“Your logic is flawed. I mean, maybe when we’re married, I’ll—“ Otabek cuts himself off once he’s realized what he’s said, but the damage is already done; he knows he’s blushing, and he’s pretty sure that’s telltale pink in Yuri’s cheeks, too. They are frozen for a moment, but before Otabek can ask what Yuri’s thinking, Misha starts kicking his legs and babbling, his spit flying furiously as he demands attention. 

Yuri leans in and kisses Otabek’s cheek. “Thanks, babe,” he murmurs, before he gets up and heads for the kitchen. Otabek sighs, and wrinkles his face at Misha, who laughs and screeches as they stand up and the changing pad comes out. 

\--

Once Misha is resettled in a clean diaper and Otabek feels like his hands have been sufficiently disinfected, he returns to the living room to find the coffee table pushed up against the window and a very thick quilt laid out on the floor. Misha’s toys are thrown to all corners of it, and he and Yuri are both lying on their stomachs. 

“Go get it, Mishenka, go!” Yuri encourages, pointing to a colorful soft block with cartoon animals on each face. Misha seems wholly uninterested in looking where Yuri’s pointing him, and is instead using his fingers to thoroughly explore Yuri’s face. One of his fingers goes into Yuri’s mouth, and Yuri speaks around it, “No, dumpling baby, I’m not your toy.” 

“Sorry, Misha, that one’s already spoken for,” Otabek agrees, kneeling down on the opposite side of the blanket. He picks up the block and shakes it, so the bell inside will chime. “Come here, Misha.” 

Hearing a voice seems to grab his attention, or maybe it’s following Yuri’s gaze that does it, but Misha finally looks over and he grins when he sees Otabek waving around the toy. He happily slaps his hands on the ground and then shuffle-crawls his way over, his hands spreading on Otabek’s knee as he plops back down on his bottom and then reaches up for the toy. 

“Stand up, Misha!” Yuri calls, but Otabek rolls his eyes and puts the block in the baby’s grasp; it’s immediately taken and shoved into his mouth. “Beka!” 

“Yuri, he’s too young to stand,” he says as he sits properly and lets Misha crawl into his lap. 

“That’s a quitter’s attitude, Otabek. He’ll never start trying if we don’t give him incentive!” 

Misha takes the toy out of his mouth and throws it in Yuri’s direction. It barely lands a foot away, but Otabek cheers. “That was a great throw. Good arm, Mishenka.” 

Misha is seemingly unsatisfied with the support, as he looks up from the toy to Yuri. After a few seconds of not getting a response, he starts to whimper and wave his hand out.

“I think he wants you to get it for him,” Otabek says with unmasked amusement. Yuri wrinkles his nose immediately. 

“Go on, Misha, you can get it,” he encourages, but Misha seems very content to sit on Otabek's thigh and cry, swatting the air in the hopes of making something happen. Chagrined, Yuri gives in before Misha starts crying in earnest, with tears and all, and he reaches across the blanket to grab a dry end of the toy and restore it to its owner. Misha throws it again, this time hitting Yuri's head. Otabek can't hold in his laugh, and Misha watches with wide eyes as Yuri dramatically falls over. 

“It's too late for you, kid,” he laments. With a long, drawn out sigh, he throws his hand against his forehead. Misha starts laughing again. 

“You know, if he's comfortable doing this to you, he probably plays the same way with his fathers,” Otabek points out, and he's pleased when Yuri grins at the thought. Yuri shifts over, and Misha flops so he's laying across their laps. 

“Is that what you do? Do you use Viktor's shiny bald forehead as a target?” Yuri sings, until his smile is suddenly gone and he gapes at the baby. “Are you trying to _bite me_ , Mishenka?”

Yuri lifts him up by the waist, and Misha immediately puts his hand in his mouth and starts to gnaw on it. Otabek can see it in slow motion, unable to stop it, when Misha manages to bite down with his toothy nubs on his skin. 

The crying is immediate, and this time it's also very real. Yuri frowns and starts to comfort the baby, kissing Misha's finger where he's chomped on it and bouncing him gently in his arms. Otabek gets up, and heads for the stuffed baby bag. 

“Did they put something in there for his teeth?” Yuri asks, and Otabek pulls out a gel-looking ring toy with a nod. Misha seems to recognize this toy, too, and squirms in Yuri's arms as he reaches for it. Once he's got a hold of it, he sticks it in his mouth and gnaws aggressively, his focus so single-minded that he puts up no fuss when Yuri wipes his face. 

Yuri kisses his hair, and Otabek smiles, knowing that his boyfriend feels a little lost on what to do. Yuri likes to solve problems with words and action, but teething isn't the kind of thing an angry pep-talk or a competition can solve. 

“Don't be too upset, Yura,” he says gently. “Everyone goes through this.” 

Yuri's mouth pulls downwards, as he strokes Misha's fine hair. “I know. I just hate seeing him in pain. He's so. Tiny. And completely helpless.”

“You were just as tiny and helpless once,” Otabek reminds him. “And now you've got all your adult teeth and you know how to use them.” 

“Perv,” Yuri sneers, but he does seem less burdened so Otabek counts it as a win. Misha leans his weight on Yuri's chest, chewing on his toy as his blue eyes flit around the room curiously. 

“He really is getting big,” Otabek says with a hum. “It's hard to believe it. It feels like he was just born.” 

“He's seven months old now, Beka,” Yuri supplies, rolling his eyes. “He's practically one of the big kids. Right, Misha?” 

Misha pulls the toy out of his mouth just enough to laugh when Yuri tickles his belly, and drool dribbles all down the front of his current pajamas. Yuri makes a face and sighs. 

“Well, at least we have an excuse to take these stupid pink clothes off of you.” 

“I believe that's lilac, actually.”

Yuri picks up the abandoned block toy and throws it at Otabek. It bounces off his head, and Otabek laughs. 

“You're setting a terrible example.” 

“It's nothing he doesn't already know how to do.” 

Otabek's grin widens. “Does that mean you're taking lessons from him?” 

“Oh? Look at that, Mishenka! Uncle Otabek is going to make your Yura dinner tonight. It was very nice of him to offer, wasn't it?” 

“Plphhhhhhhhhhhft,” Misha agrees, pulling the toy out of his mouth to dribble spit all down his chin happily. Yuri winces in disgust, and grabs a washcloth from the baby bag. He redirects the toy to Misha's mouth, and Otabek chuckles when Misha automatically resumes his gnawing. 

“Alright, I'll make your dinner, Yura. You sure you'll be okay alone with Misha?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuri drawls, wiping down his chin. “We're good.”

\--

Two hours later, Yuri and Otabek have both eaten their dinner – meatballs and salad – and Misha has gnawed through a handful of teething wafers, yet another item pulled from the seemingly endless baby bag. Misha is rolling around on the blanket, aggressively chasing down his toys, dividing them up between Yuri and Otabek, and then demanding them back so he can start the process again. His pajamas are covered in cookie paste and dried up drool, and when Otabek catches a glimpse of the clock, he holds his hands out to Misha. 

“I think it's bathtime now, Mishenka,” he says gently, smoothing down the baby's hair when Misha readily collapses against his forearm. “That way you can take your bottle and get to sleep.” 

“Good idea,” Yuri agrees, scooting over to the pair of them and bringing the bag in tow. “Give him here, and you can grab a change of clothes.” 

Otabek holds Misha bit protectively. “Actually, Yura, I was kind of looking forward to it.” 

Yuri pauses and looks hard at him, and Otabek can feel the heat in his ears. He can't quite meet Yuri's intense gaze, so he turns back to Misha, and that makes it a little easier to relax. Misha looks up at him, too, but only to grab his nose and laugh. Yuri snorts, and Otabek frees himself easily, leaving a kiss in Misha's palm. 

“Oh,” Yuri says. “Yeah. Go ahead, Beka. You know where his soap and stuff are, right? I'll grab clean stuff and join you.”

“Thanks.” Otabek nods as he gets up, Misha in tow. Misha's head slumps a little into Otabek's shoulder, a sign of impending sleepiness, he's sure, and it makes Otabek feel warm. An old memory comes up, of a song his mother sang to him when he was a child, and Otabek finds himself singing the old Kazahk lullaby as he undoes the snaps on Misha's pajamas. 

By the time Yuri joins them in the bathroom, Misha's already naked and splashing contentedly in his plastic tub that Otabek's placed in their full sized bath. Otabek himself is shirtless, his sopping wet shirt in the sink to be dealt with later.

“He likes water,” Yuri comments, kneeling down beside Otabek. Otabek looks up from where he's running his soapy hands over Misha's arms and belly just long enough to catch sight of his grin. 

“That's good. If he's not interested in skating, maybe he'll end up a swimmer.” 

“As if any godson of mine won't be interested in skating,” Yuri scoffs, punching Otabek's arm. “Stupid Uncle Beka.” 

Misha shrills when he notices Yuri's presence, and sends a wave of water in his direction when he splashes his arms out to greet him. Yuri gets sprayed in the face but he laughs and wipes soap away from Misha's forehead, where it's making its descent down to his eyes. 

“That's my Mishenka, good boy. You're gonna be the best skater, Yura's gonna teach you everything he knows.” 

“Bbbbbbbbfth!” Misha cheers wetly.

Otabek laughs to himself, as he finishes soaping up Misha's skin. His toes are starting to get wrinkled, he notes with some amusement. “Did you grab his towel and a change of clothes?” 

“I've got it here,” Yuri agrees, and Otabek looks over to see a pile with a clean white bodysuit, a diaper, a towel, and a very familiar brown fabric. 

“I thought he outgrew his teddy bear pajamas,” he comments, nudging Yuri's elbow gently. Yuri huffs a bit. 

“Yeah, well, maybe I thought they were cute on him and so maybe I went and bought the same ones in the bigger size.” 

“Yeah?” Otabek grins. “Good. I like them on him.” 

"I know." Yuri picks up the towel to have something to keep his hands busy with. As Otabek rinses all the soap clean off of Misha, he can make out Yuri murmuring, “Me too.” 

\-- 

Everything is a little easier after bathtime. A diaper is secured onto Misha before he can reenact one of his greatest hits, peeing on everyone he loves, and even though he's upset not to be splashing around, Yuri gets his mind off the drained tub with a quick game of peek-a-boo. They dress him in the teddy bear onesie pajamas; Misha only tolerates having the oversized hood pulled over his head for a few seconds before he reaches up to wrestle it down, but that's long enough for Yuri to post a picture to Instagram and tag his fathers, with the hashtag “#TheFutureofRussianSkating.” 

After he prepares the bottle and they give it to an eager Misha, Otabek checks the likes and finds that, unsurprisingly, Phichit Chulanont has left the first comment. Yuuri has reposted the photo to his account, which makes Otabek hum. 

“It must be upsetting for Katsuki that Misha doesn't have the option to skate for Japan.” 

Yuri looks up and shrugs. “The law needs to get its sh-- stuff together,” he says. “Between the whole gay marriage thing, the gay-couple adoption thing, and the 'Japanese citizenship is impossible to get' thing, I wouldn't be surprised if it takes a few years before Katsudon pulls it off.” 

Otabek catches himself thinking about Kazakhstan's nationality laws, and runs his fingers through his hair to shake the thought. His hand smells like baby shampoo, and it makes him smile reflexively. 

Yuri's smiling too, and Misha finishes up his bottle and drops it on the floor carelessly. “You're a total butt face, Mishenka,” he laughs, before turning him over to burp him. “I hope you never change.” 

\-- 

Misha's in bed and asleep by 9:30, which feels like an extraordinary accomplishment, especially when Yuuri expresses his genuine surprise over the phone about it. In the background, Viktor can be heard blowing kisses for his sleeping son and thanking Yuri and Otabek profusely. Before they hang up, Yuri bluntly states he's not giving Misha up to anyone who comes in the next morning hungover, and Yuuri laughs and promises they're being good. Yuri makes a disgusted face and hangs up the line. 

“Promise me we'll never be gross, Beka.” 

“I promise.” 

Though they would normally stay up later, at 10:15 Yuri's yawning and Otabek is feeling drained, too; it's kind of amazing how draining it can be just looking after an infant for one afternoon. Even skating isn't this exhausting, Otabek thinks. 

But it's also nice to be in bed a little earlier, curled up with Yura while the sound of tiny breathing from the bassinet fills the room. Their bodies have figured out the perfect fit without them having to think about it anymore, and Otabek is a little surprised when Yuri whispers against his clavicle. 

“Hey. Earlier, you said something... did you mean it?” 

“Gonna need more than that,” Otabek mumbles, pulling at his memory to figure out which thing Yuri could be referring to. Yuri clarifies, “Did you mean what you said earlier, about us getting married?” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I think about it, sometimes,” Otabek confesses carefully. Yuri breathes deeply against him. 

“I think about it too. More than sometimes.” 

“Maybe in a few years...” 

“It wouldn't be so bad...” 

“I'd be happy,” Otabek whispers.

“So would I.” Yuri whispers back. 

Misha's snorts in his sleep, but then his breathing's normal again. 

Otabek kisses Yuri's forehead. “Goodnight, Yura.”

“Night, Beka. Night, Misha.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you found Misha so cute you wanna smush his cheeks. Or if you have any other feedback! You can find me on twitter [@haikyuutiie](https://twitter.com/haikyuutiie).


End file.
